


Maybe I Need You

by AfterTheTempest (orphan_account)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: I like tuckington, M/M, kinda sad, like season 12 stuff, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:15:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2091963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AfterTheTempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Short dumb thing?</p>
    </blockquote>





	Maybe I Need You

**Author's Note:**

> Short dumb thing?

Caboose's asked about Freckles when he thought Tucker wasn't listening. But he was. He'd tense up under his armor because he was far more concerned with Wash's location and _not_ some fucking metal contraption. Very quickly everything would get very tense and it was uncomfortable to sit at the same table as Tucker in the mess hall. He wouldn't drop into normal conversation, even Simmons managed to be a bit talkative. But no, of course Tucker was going to be bitter about it. Though this seemed a little much. He sat alone at meals, driving Palomo away when he tried to sit beside him.

At night he would lay in bed, curled up, eyes open, tiredly staring at the far wall. He would wait and wait for Wash's arms to wind around his waist. He waited for cold feet to press to his bare ankles. He waited for the brush of lips against the base of his neck. It never came.

Tucker rolled so he was laying flat on his back, arms spread out. 

Everyone was kind of confused on the whole deal, Tucker loved to pick fights with Wash and didn't seem to appreciate him at times. Everyone had suspicions but no one was sure. For now they decided to give Tucker his space.

So he lay stretched out on his bed, an ache heavy in his chest. His eyebrows pulled down and his eyes crinkled up, a grimace appeared on his face. In mere seconds his eyes were full of tears and he fought to keep steady breaths but they kept catching in his throat. Thank god Caboose was a heavy sleeper because his chest heaved quietly and he pulled his arms in close, gripping at his short hair. The pain blossomed, spreading through his entire chest down to his middle until it gripped his entire being, cheeks dripping wet.

Moving bases and being on the run started to mess with his sense of home. Places didn't seem to be home anymore no matter how much he pretended they could be. The last time he felt home was with his cheek pressed to Wash's back when he came into Tucker's bed because of his nightmares. Warm, scarred skin against his soft cheek was his _home_. So he turned his head to the side, pressing his cheek to the thin pillow under him.

It wasn't warm and it didn't smell like Wash. It wasn't home.

The fact that it took so long to learn what home meant to him made his body tremble because now Wash wasn't beside him. He'd been scared of commitment, he was the ladies man! Always with a new lady! That was further than the truth then anything he had ever heard. But now he realized that either way he was committed, even if he hadn't told Wash he loved him or liked him or _anything_. He liked to act like he didn't need anyone permanent romantically but now that Wash was gone it hurt.

Maybe he needed him.

He definitely needed him.

Breaths came in wheezes and he rolled out of bed, stumbling down the hall. He was barefoot, in one of Wash's shirts and a pair of boxers. Sniffling quite pathetically, he came to halt eventually, back thumping against the wall as he leaned into it. It was too much at once because yes, yes he loved Wash and why didn't he notice that earlier. Everything might have been a hell of a lot different. At least he would've come clean about his feelings.

Maybe then his chest wouldn't sting that bad.

Tucker always seemed to be nonchalant about things, or at least acted like he was fine. And he'd tried this time but it was too much, too heavy for him to carry. 

* * *

When he found where there were holding Wash he was happier than he'd been in a damn while. 

They found him. He found him. Maybe he would be bloodied when they found him. Maybe he would be hurt and it would be all his fault. Tucker had been so _excited_ because it was Wash and he was _alive_. His chest felt light and his heart was beating hard because he was okay. For those few minutes everything seemed _okay_ and he thought everything was going to be _okay_. Until Kimball said they couldn't just _go_.

Tucker felt the sudden shift, they way his throat suddenly tightened. He felt the way his stomach flipped. They way his fists clenched. He realized that he needed Wash, he really, honestly did. Because he could not go on with this feeling embedded in his chest, it was _too much_.

But when he was provided with a way to go through with this, a way to rescue Wash he felt another shift. His throat was still tight and his chest ached but he unclenched his fists and found himself becoming the leader of the little squad.

Tucker found himself mainly running the training and the ache didn't leave. It made it a little hard when they ran laps, but he pressed on. Because Wash was out there and he needed him. Tucker couldn't remember the last time he had worked so hard, the only instances that came to mind at all involved Wash. Wash was something extra to him, more to him than almost anything else. Sure Church had been his best friend or something like that. It became a one way street when Church left, well when Epsilon left.

Washington was not a one way street. Because Wash trusted him enough to crawl into his bed when he couldn't sleep, when he was vulnerable. While Carolina seemed to still have been a bit wary around them, not able to fully accept them as a part of her Wash did. He could be a dick about training and he was just so sarcastic but he stayed. He sacrificed himself for them when really he could have probably made it to the tunnel if he tried. But he did what he could to protect them.

Tucker didn't know when his throat had begun to tighten up exactly.

* * *

Merely a few days later Tucker's chest was so tight he thought it would pull open, his heart pounded against it loudly and then the door opened and for a second he couldn't breathe because there he was. He was standing there and he was alive and breathing. The name was out of his mouth in seconds because why was he not locked up? Why did he have his gun? Tucker heard his own name and he just couldn't speak for a few moments, gun held tightly. 

That was the only thing Tucker really remembered before everything went to shit.


End file.
